


we sit together, the mountain and me

by theexistentialqueer



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/F, Found Family, Gen, Headcanon Backstory, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 18:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theexistentialqueer/pseuds/theexistentialqueer
Summary: Hsiao could see all of their lies from the start.(Multi-part Hsiao character study [kind of], heavy exploration of backstory, implied or maybe not-so-implied one-sided Hsiao/Hairu, Hsiao and the Quinx Squad. I'll tag other characters and/or relationships, as well as additional tags and updating the rating, as they become relevant.)





	we sit together, the mountain and me

**Author's Note:**

> This started from a bunny combining Hsiao being educated in the Sunlit Garden and the comment Aura makes to her during her and Hige's fight with him: "Hsiao, don't you remember how important Special Investigator Ihei was to you?"
> 
> I'm not saying Hsiao was gay for Hairu....but Hsiao was definitely gay for Hairu (as were we all).
> 
> These first few chapters are going to be heavily based on my personal headcanon of Hsiao's background, including her childhood and her time in the Sunlit Garden. I don't think she was in the Sunlit Garden just because she was gifted. They raised Washuu ghouls like Rize there, so she has to be part-Washuu.
> 
> Fair warning that I have absolutely no plan for how to handle this, so don't be surprised if I go off in a weird direction.
> 
> The title is from an English translation of a poem by Chinese classical poet Li Bai (also know as Li Po/Bo), "Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain":
> 
> _The birds have vanished down the sky._  
>  _Now the last cloud drains away._
> 
> _We sit together, the mountain and me,_  
>  _until only the mountain remains._
> 
> Something about the second stanza just sounded very Hsiao-ish to me.

Not every day spent in the Garden is illuminated by the shining rays of the bright white sun.

Clouds come. Rain, too. During the winter, snow. They call the Garden sunlit, but that's just another one of their lies.

Hsiao could see all of their lies from the start.

She remembers primary school. Starting at a new school in the middle of the year, being brought in and made to stand before the class and introduce herself.

In the Garden, they don't care who you are.

One day she wasn't there, and the next day she was.

Then one day she'll be gone, and the Garden will still be there long after.

 

* * *

 

Hsiao isn't the name her family goes by for most of her childhood. It's just the last one she remembers.

What she remembers of her childhood is this:

Sparsely furnished apartments, always just barely enough for her and her father to eat, her parents working odd jobs but always with just enough time to spend with her. They are always moving away any time they settle long enough for the faces of of the other children at school to become familiar. Her father is always tired, and her mother is always beautiful. Her parents are her whole world, but they are happy.

_Your mother is a long-lost Japanese princess_ , her father tells her as he tucks her into bed. It's the story he's told her since she was young enough to understand stories, and it's her favorite story. _She fell in love when she met me, and she ran away so we could be together. But their spies are chasing her still, until this day. That's why we always have to be one step ahead, baobei._

If her mother is a long-lost princess, that makes her a princess too. She likes that.

She likes even more the idea of her parents' daring romance, her mother running away from royalty to marry a Taiwanese man with little to offer her but his love.

If the spies are after them, Ching-li will just have to be a step ahead.

But this isn't a fairy tale with a happy ending. It's not a tale of a baby's first steps or her first words, her first day in kindergarten, her first lantern festival, her first time playing catch the dragon's tale.

This isn't a story about a little girl's firsts, except maybe the first time her life falls apart.

It happens like this.

 

* * *

 

"Baobei, wake up," Mama says one night, shaking her until she's awake, although she can't quite focus on what Mama is saying. "Get dressed, now. We have to go."

The lights are off. Ching-li stumbles from her bed and trips on her blanket as it falls to the floor; Mama lunges and catches her. She holds her upright until she steadies, and then begins to pull her pajamas off. Ching-li stands almost naked in her bedroom, shivering at the chill of the night air against her skin, her mind too numb from sleep to process what is happening. Mama begins passing her clothes, first a camisole and woolen tights, then a warm long-sleeved shirt; once those are on, then a skirt, socks, a heavy woolen sweater. Ching-li dresses herself without thinking about what she's doing.

Finally Mama helps her into a pair of sturdy rain boots, and Ching-li manages to register a sense of surprise. Shoes aren't supposed to be worn indoors. She looks up at her mother in confusion.

"Mama, what's going on?" she asks.

Mama holds a finger to her lips to shush her. Much quieter than Ching-li had been, she murmurs, "There are bad people coming. We have to go before they get here."

Mama takes her hand and leads her out her bedroom door and through the dark apartment.

"Where's Baba?" Ching-li whispers.

"Baba will be right behind us," Mama promises, and her voice trembles, but Ching-li believes her.

They reach the door to the patio; their apartment is on the fourteenth floor. Mama unlatches the door and leads her outside, then closes the door behind them. She crouches down in front of Ching-li and pulls a warm hat down over her ears.

"Listen, baobei," Mama says, speaking a bit louder now to be heard over the shrill gusting of the wind. "Mama is going to pick you up, and you'll be in my arms. I'll hold you tight and you'll be safe. But I want you to keep your eyes closed, okay? Don't look, however confused you might be or however much you might want to. Okay?"

"Okay," Ching-li agrees, not understanding anything other than Mama will hold her and she'll be safe. When Mama picks her up and rests her on her hip like she's still a baby, Ching-li wraps her arms around her neck. When Mama's arms circle tight around Ching-li and press her against her body, Ching-li rests her head against Mama's shoulder and squeezes her eyes closed.

There's a ripping sound, like fabric tearing, and another sound too, like whips whishing through the air. Then they're lurching forward, faster than a run, and the air is whipping around them, sharp cold tendrils snapping at the parts of her not nestled securely against her mother's body. They swing through empty space, Ching-li's stomach lurching with every jerk and pull, and she can't see anything because Mama told her to close her eyes, but she can feel it.

They're _flying_.

For a moment, she's so delighted she almost laughs aloud.

Through the moaning wind she hears shouting, and a cracking of air, roaring and resounding.

Something collides with them. Mama cries out and pulls Ching-li tighter against her.

They tumble through the air, and Ching-li is afraid now. She can feel them falling, knows the possessive grip of gravity on their bodies even if she doesn't know what the word means. She can picture them plunging downward, the unforgiving ground below them climbing closer and closer, but as much as she wants to open her eyes, she promised Mama she wouldn't, so she squeezes her eyes tighter and wills herself not to cry.

"I have you, xingan baobei," Mama tells her over the mournful wind, a hand gently curving against the back of Ching-li's head. She feels Mama's chin move against her hair and feels the soft press of Mama's lips at her temple. "I love you so much. I'm sorry."

Something slams into the ground beneath them, jerking them to a stop with the sound of rocks shattering. They bounce once and fall sideways to hit the ground, Mama catching her fall as they roll.

When they stop, Mama lets out a pained little moan. Ching-li finally pushes herself up on shaky limbs and opens her eyes.

Mama is curled up on her side, something wet staining the back of her sweater, and there are long, red tendrils spilling out from the back of her waist like ribbons. As she watches, they fall apart into glimmering specks of light and dissolve.

At the sound of footsteps, Ching-li looks up.

Like phantoms in dark suits and broad-brimmed hats, there are men all around them, each one holding a gleaming sword in his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> You can infer that Hsiao's mother's kagune being a rinkaku and her pulling the Kaneki ninja trick means she's related to Rize. I'm lazy and that's what I was going with.
> 
> Baobei = Mandarin term of endearment that means "treasure."
> 
> Xingan = Mandarin term of endearment that means "my heart and liver." The closest English equivalent would be "my heart and soul." When used in a compound with baobei, usually by parents to refer to their children, it's something like, "the treasure of my heart and soul."
> 
> "Their apartment is on the fourteenth floor" - 4 is an unlucky number in Chinese culture, because the word is a homonym for the _death_.


End file.
